The blog and contents of the entire greeklish.org site represent the personal views of the site's authors. The views expressed on these pages are the views of the authors alone and are not the views of our employers or of any organizations with which we are affiliated.
Copyrighted quotes and images obtained from third party web sites are used under the terms of Fair Use. Some materials used by greeklish.org are in the public domain.
Family photos are intended for viewing on this web site and should not be reproduced or used elsewhere without the permission of the owners and operators of greeklish.org.
International Women's Day, as described
byAlexandra Kollontai, began as “a day of international solidarity, and a day
for reviewing the strength and organization of proletarian women.” Established through the determination
of radical activist and organizerClara Zetkinand a resolution adopted at the
International Conference of Working Women the first IWD was marked in
1911. Today, IWD is
commemorated around the world as “a global day
celebrating the economic, political and social achievements of women past,
present and future.”
In recognition of
International Women’s Day 2010, here are some biographical sketches of some women I admire:
Nadezhda Krupskaya(1869 – 1939)Married to V.I. Lenin, Krupskaya was a very important
revolutionary in her own right, educating and supporting fellow Bolsheviks in
the years leading up to the Russian Revolution of 1917. Suffering through persecution and arrest under
the Tsar, Krupskaya endured the struggle and supported Lenin through the tumult
that would eventually bring the Soviets to power.Krupskaya was an archivist and librarian and did much work
in the establishment of the new Soviet library system following the
revolution.In 1933, she published
Reminiscences of Lenin, a biography of her husband which is often regarded as
one of the best assessments of his life and work. Further Reading:Nadezhda
Krupskaya Internet Archive
Madhubala (1933 – 1969) One
of the most popular actresses of Bollywood’s Golden Age, Madhubala performed in
over 70 films before her untimely death at the age of 36. Her most celebrated part was the lead
role in the epic film Mughal-e-Azam. At the time of her passing, she was
regarded as an icon throughout India and beyond. She remains one of India’s most beloved film
stars to this day.
Ida B. Wells-Barnett(1862 – 1931)Ida B. Wells-Barnett was a
journalist and activist who used her exceptional talents as a writer and a speaker to raise global
awareness
regarding crimes against African-Americans in the South during the
decades
immediately following the Civil War.She wrote extensively on the problem of lynching in the
United States,
beginning with two groundbreaking pamphlets Southern
Horrors: Lynch Law in All
Its Phases, and a A Red Record.She co-founded the NAACP
with W.E.B. DuBois and others
in 1909. Further Reading:Southern
Horrors: Lynch Law in All Its Phases(full text) by Ida
B. Wells-Barnett
Mother TsaiImmortalized
by Agnes Smedley in her article “No Sacrifice…No Victory,” Mother Tsai
was a
leader of women in the “south Yangtze valley” during China’s War of
Resistance
against Japan from 1937 – 1945.Well into her late 60’s, Mother Tsai worked in the fields with
her
daughters-in-law while her sons fought in the guerilla armies against
the
Japanese invaders.She was an
important member of the Women’s Association, delivering inspirational
political
speeches to to wounded soldiers as they convalesced in hospital wards.She mounted aggressive campaigns
against opium use and corruption in the region, declaring war on the
oppressive
conventions of sexism and exploitation.
Lili Brik (1891-1978)Intimately
involved at a number of levels with the Russia’s Futurist movement of
literature and art, Lili Brik was a close personal associate of Russia’s
celebrated poet Vladimir Mayakovsky.After Mayakovsky's death, Brik penned a personal appeal to Joseph Stalin in 1935 in which she advocated
for the widespread dissemination and popularization of Mayakovsky’s works.She wrote: “…I address myself to you
because I do not see any other means to realize the tremendous revolutionary
heritage of Mayakovsky.”The
appeal was met with the approval of Stalin who famously responded, “Comrade
Brik is right: Mayakovsky was and remains the most talented poet of our Soviet
epoch.Indifference to his memory
and words is a crime.” Her memory lives on in the works of Mayakovsky and the art of Alexander Rodchenko. Further Reading:I Love: The Story of Vladimir Mayakovsky and Lili Brik(Amazon listing)
It didn't take long for us to realize that we didn't want to be without a Boxer in the house. After just a few days without Domino, we decided that we wanted to go back to being a "two dog family" for everyone's sake, including that of our very grief-stricken Lhasanese, Stupsi. A few of our friends, including some fellow Boxer enthusiasts, encouraged us to "get back on the horse" as soon as we could and we took that advice to heart. We looked at a few older dogs in area shelters but we just weren't feeling the connection that we were hoping to find.
Late yesterday, I found a classified ad for a litter of 9 week-old Boxer pups. The seller was in South Charleston and she was very nice over the phone, even agreeing to hold one puppy in particular as we were very interested in him from the photo in the ad. Immediately after work, Thomai , the girls and I set out to visit South Charleston, braving the dropping temperatures, freezing rain and dark rural roads to reach the seller's home.
The lady was one of the most conscientious breeders I have ever met. She had folders prepared with documentation, medical histories and feeding instructions for each individual puppy. The parents of the litter were both present for us to meet and inspect. It was all very nice and reassuring and the fact that she was offering the pups at very "non-breeder" prices (so to speak) was even more encouraging.
In the end, we left with the very pup we had come to see. He is a handsome boy, indeed. He's a reverse-brindle Boxer with big paws and he's naturally curious but a little on the skittish side. The breeder described him as "stubborn and bull-headed but a bit of a sissy" (Those are her words, not mine). I have to admit that it will be quite funny to see our Stupsi -- a tiny little Tribble of a dog -- ultimately take her place as the dominant dog in the house, especially when this male pup grows into a full-size, muscle-bound 70+ pound brute.
We named our new guy "Dutch" (or "Dutchie") and the origin of his name is really something of a long story for another day. Stupsi has welcomed him to our family with cautious enthusiasm and we are all so excited to have Dutch with us. Of course, it's not the same as having our old girl Domino here with us, but it's a nice new beginning for everyone.
Thanks to everyone who shared words of support and encouragement.
Given the enormous human suffering brought on by the recent
disaster in Haiti, it doesn’t seem right to publicly dwell for too long on the
death of a family pet. But because
greeklish.org has been something of an "online diary" for us for such a long
time now, I wanted to mark the occasion with a few reflections on the recent
passing of our good friend Domino.
Thomai and I bought Domino as newlyweds in 1997.She was our second family pet after our
green iguana Oppie (named after J. Robert Oppenheimer) who passed away in 2002.We bought Domino from a farm in rural
Eaton and we named her after the Kiss song "Domino."I have always been proud to say that Domino’s name was
Thomai’s idea.
Domino was a huge part of our lives for 13 years.She welcomed our two daughters into the
family and she was always patient and always gentle with the kids.I think that there aren’t many dog
owners who can honestly and accurately say that their dogs never bared teeth,
growled or showed aggression in any form but this was absolutely the case with
our dog Domino.Whether it was all
those times when the girls inadvertently smacked her with toy golf clubs and
the like or it was those first few years when Thomai and I used Domino to test
out our developing “parental skills,” Domino was always understanding and
always forgiving.
When we brought Stupsi home a couple of years ago, Domino
was kind enough to welcome one more member to the family.As a rambunctious puppy, Stupsi was
awfully trying in her own right but it was great to see Domino acting as a
“mentor” of sorts to our newest four-legged addition.We lovingly called Domino our “Grand Dame” as we watched her
teach Stupsi the ropes.
She wasn't a show dog. She had a "point" on the top of her head. Her bottom front teeth looked like the salt from a big soft pretzel. Her nose was often dry and crusty. She drooled spit and sludge from her jowls and often left a trail of the stuff through the house. But Domino was made out of incredibly tough stuff.Her health problems were always minor
and we were often told by fellow boxer owners how fortunate we were to enjoy
such a long time with our beloved friend.We didn’t have to deal with a lengthy battle with cancer (boxers are
notoriously cancer prone), heart problems or hip issues.In the end, it was her 13 year-old liver
that gave out.He decline started
last Thursday and I already had a pretty good idea what we were facing by the
time I helped her into the van to go to the vet on Saturday.In addition to her lethargy and obvious
discomfort, the jaundice in her eyes signaled that she was in a bad way.
The doctor was very nice as he explained things, ending our difficult discussion
by saying that he thought that letting Domino go would be “fair.”Thomai and the girls arrived in time to
say a difficult goodbye and when they stepped out, I got a few minutes alone with
Domino.I sat on the floor with
her, wrapping my legs around her body and my arms around her neck.She rested her chin on my arm and
closed her eyes as I whispered in her ear.She had been virtually deaf for years but something about
the situation was comforting to her and for a few moments she dozed comfortably
as I spoke softly to her.The
doctor joined us and the end was fast and merciful.She fell asleep once more in my arms and I gently laid her
down for one final goodbye.
The whole situation was wonderfully materialistic in a
manner of speaking.There was no
talk of God or Heaven, no musings about religion and spirituality or the grand cosmic meanings of life and death.We were
straight with our girls about what happened and why and they are stronger surely
because of the experience and its lasting lessons.Even the doctor was very concrete in his description of how
Domino reacted in her final seconds, describing some involuntary movements as
“random electricity.”It was all consistent with how I view life and existence and thus
reaffirming and ultimately very comforting.
I sat down at the computer late Saturday afternoon and
opened up the web browser, landing on my default home page here at greeklish.org.Right there in front of me were the
words I typed just a few weeks ago:
Nothing ever truly goes away. Our favorite things,
places and people will last forever but in different shapes and forms.
It is a comfort to me that Domino will exist in our memories
and beyond for many, many years to come.Thomai and the girls struggle now and again and I have apologized many
times over the course of the last few days for all of the times my girls have had
to see me sob and cry.Stupsi is
having a hard time as well, spending hours laying near Domino’s favorite spots in
the house and periodically searching for her around the house as she softly
whimpers.
This is real life though, and there are many problems much
worse than this all around the world, every single day.We are surely fortunate that this is our
greatest of challenge at the moment just as we are fortunate to have enjoyed so
many years with such a dedicated friend.
We will always love our friend Domino.
"Suddenly... You were gone... from all the lives you
left your mark upon.” ★
Ontario, Canada is one of my favorite places in the world. We’ve visited the area a number of times over the years and every trip has yielded great memories. One of my favorite visits was our trip to Toronto in 2005. Z. was just over one year old and the four of us – with Z. in her stroller – came to know the city well, opting to travel from place to place mostly on foot and through the use of the city’s subway system. In our short time in Toronto, we came to appreciate the omnipresence of hospitality and diversity on the streets of the city.
While visiting Niagara Falls in 2008, I reflected a bit on the trip to Toronto as well as on all of our visits to the area from years past. I had been reading a lot of Allen Ginsberg’s work around this time and – although I’m not comparing my work to his – I can honestly say that I felt his influence as I sat at the desk in our hotel room one night. With that in mind, I took pen in hand and wrote about my appreciation for Canada in verse.
Our northern excursions have been on my mind again lately, especially because I now enjoy regular correspondence with a number of friends who live throughout Canada. Up to now, the only person with whom I’ve ever shared a single one of my poems is Thomaï. She always been kind to me, which is something I truly appreciate. However, I am certain that the support and encouragement of one’s spouse is not really the most accurate gauge as to the quality one's particular work. So, I thought that now might be as good a time as any to share this poem with everyone who might be interested in knowing something of my affection for Canada and its people.
Canada, I Love You
Canada, I love you for your Loonies and Toonies, and your healthcare for everyone, and how you told America to “suck it” over the wars. I love you for your Horseshoe Falls, for your legions of French-speakers, and all your diversity on the streets. For your Maple Leafs, and the mother of three who said, “Look at the fireworks, eh!” I love you for your “No tax on Maple Syrup!” and your QEW, and for the stand against WTO in Montréal. I love you for your cosmopolitan cities, with your street-corners full of congregations: men of faith, break-dancers and drummers, Hekmatists spreading the word, men holding hands on the subway, black folks, asians, “whitefolk” – melting together in a river of humanity. Canada, you are not the United States of America, and I love you for it.
23 July 2008; Niagara Falls, Ontario, Canada [Revised 31 July - 1 August 2009; Dayton, Ohio]
As I've noted before, one of my favorite things to do as a parent is to share interesting and unusual books with our girls at every possible opportunity. Sometimes, the results aren't terribly well received, like the time I read aloud from an old inductive logic book over dinner or the night I shared some passages from Marcuse's One Dimensional Man. Other times, the girls are genuinely interested in what I am reading and they ask me to share a bit with them. I have, of course, obliged on a number of occasions, sharing pieces from books like Chaim Potok's The Chosen and Richard Poe's Afrocentric historical study Black Spark, White Fire.
There was also the wonderful evening when I received a rare first printing of Voltairine de Cleyre's Selected Works in the mail and the girls sat by and watched closely as I carefully opened the book, showed them de Cleyre's portrait and read some of her poems for them. (To this day, Baby Z. says she will someday have a daughter named Voltairine. Really.) I must say that it's nice to help our girls to develop interests and knowledge that extends beyond the limitations of mass marketing and popular culture.
Last Friday afternoon, I was sitting on the swing in front of my in-laws' house enjoying a rare, gentle July breeze as I relished the end of the workweek. I took advantage of this down time to read some of Brecht's play Mother Courage and Her Children which I had started a week or so prior. My rather busy schedule had prevented me from spending more than a few minutes every few days with the book.
After a short time, the girls noticed that I was sitting outside and Baby Z. ran out to join me. She scrambled up into the swing next to me, grabbed a hold of my arm and laid her head on my chest. She looked down at the book and said, 'Read that book to me.” I had just finished the section in the book in which Mother Courage's son Swiss Cheese was executed, so I figured that the next few pages might be rather unremarkable.
So, I started reading to Z. from the beginning of Scene Four but about halfway down the page, I realized that I had indeed come upon some subject matter that wasn't entirely age-appropriate for my young, audience. This scene featured a young soldier who was furious with his captain and was looking to exact some revenge. I stopped reading as I scanned the remainder of the page to see what I had gotten myself into and I silently read the following:
YOUNG SOLDIER: Screw the Captain! Where is the son of a bitch? Swiping my reward, spending it on brandy for his whores, I'll rip his belly open!
AN OLDER SOLDIER (coming after him): Shut your hole, you'll wind up in the stocks.
YOUNG SOLDIER: Come out, you thief, I'll make lamb chops out of you! I was the only one in the squad who swam the river and he grabs my money, I can't even buy myself a beer. Come on out! And let me slice you up!
I wasn't entirely sure what to do at this point, as Baby Z. seemed fairly interested in the subject matter and I have to admit that it's awfully nice to have my little one cuddled up next to me, intent on sharing in what is so obviously rather interesting to me. So I substituted my own "revised” version of the passage and said something like this:
"Well, ummm…See, this young guy is mad at the Captain – really mad, see – and he wants to get the Captain really, really badly because the Captain took his money….or something. And he's really going to get him, I guess. And then this other guy comes along and tells him to be quiet, but the young guy won't because he's really mad. Yeah."
It was at this point that Baby Z. hopped down from the swing abruptly and said, "Okay…Can we do something else?” I asked her if she wanted to know what happened to Mother Courage and she said, rather matter-of-factly, "That book is boring.” Then she toddled off to the garage to get her tricycle so she could ride it in the driveway for a while. Ah well, it was nice for a moment, anyway.
I wondered if Brecht is really boring to a 5 year-old or if it was just came across as boring because I dumbed it down. Whatever the case, I always appreciate the candor of our girls and I figure that someday when they come back to these authors and books of their own accord, they might feel a small spark of recollection and ultimately end up with some greater appreciation for what we've tried to share with them along the way.
First, I must offer a point of clarification...As much as I’d like to write a thorough summary of one of the best lectures I have ever had the privilege to attend, I’m sure that I would not be able to present the subject matter with the depth and detail it most certainly deserves. Instead, the following article mainly discusses the personal significance of the evening, as it was a night filled with memorable moments that will profoundly influence me and my family for many years to come.
On February 23, 2009, I attended a lecture by Angela Y. Davis at my alma mater, Wright State University. The last event I attended at WSU was a lecture by Cornel West back in January 2006 and it was a tremendous experience. As wonderful as that event was, I must say that the opportunity to see Angela Davis speak was more than just a little exciting for me. I was literally jumping up and down when I first learned about the lecture several months ago and I anticipated the date with a great deal of enthusiasm.
At this point, I must note unequivocally that Angela Davis is a hero to me. For decades, she has remained at the forefront of struggles for oppressed and exploited people around the world. Her public victories and her personal sacrifices are well documented and her body of work is a significant contribution to the study and improvement of important issues including those of class consciousness as well as race and gender equality.
Some years ago, I purchased a vintage poster of Angela Davis from an estate liquidation sale on eBay. It was already framed and under glass and as I recall, the price for the poster — including shipping on the big, bulky item (from Texas, I think) — was relatively steep. But I was lucky to acquire it and I still remember the day that I put it up on the wall in our home library room. It’s pretty big and Angela’s portrait dominates the poster, accompanied by the bold title: “Victims of the World’s Greatest Conspiracy!” There are some other images and text around her picture, including portraits of Huey P. Newton and George Jackson as well as some verses from Claude McKay’s poem “If We Must Die.” I think the poster was printed by a San Francisco Bay area book store while Angela was in jail awaiting trial on a series of bogus charges (She was eventually acquitted of all charges in 1972). The poster is original (as opposed to a reproduction) and some nail holes, small tears and a few notes in pencil are visible to the attentive observer. To be honest, I really find the “wear and tear” to add quite a bit of historical and sentimental value to the poster.
I realize it might seem a little odd to embark on a tangent about a simple poster what is supposed to be an account of a speaking engagement, but there is something very important about this poster in the context of my experience in seeing Angela speak at WSU: This piece has been hanging on the wall in our library room ever since our older daughter K. was a toddler. Both K. and our younger daughter Z. have looked upon Angela’s portrait for years. They know her face and they know her name. Sure, it’s true that they are too young to really understand that much about Angela and what she stands for, but they know that she is important. And I don’t mean that they just know she is important to me. They know she is an important woman and some day, they will know her story. This is what made so significant that baby Z. accompanied me to the lecture at WSU. It was truly a remarkable opportunity for me as a father to share this experience with one of my daughters.
Thomai had hoped to attend the lecture with me, but she was scheduled to teach a Greek school class that night. Since K. is one of her star pupils, she was not able to attend the event either. Later that night (after Z. and I got home from the lecture), Thomai told me that K. had expressed some disappointment that she was not able to go to the lecture with us. I was, of course, glad that she did not skip Greek school, but it was also good to know that she would have attended the lecture with some enthusiasm had things worked out. T. offered to take Z. to school with her a number of times, but I was very happy at the prospect of having her accompany me to the event, so we packed a backpack full of coloring books, paper, stuffed animals and Goldfish crackers and we headed up the road to WSU.
We arrived at WSU pretty early for the event, getting there at around 6:00 PM even though it wasn’t scheduled to begin until 7:30 PM. Z. wasn’t really sure about where we were for a while because she kept referring to the WSU campus as “the mall.” She had taken a short nap on the way to WSU, so she was a little disoriented when we got out of the car. I eventually told her that we were at the same place that we go to for the annual comic book show and that seemed to register. I also told her we were there to hear Angela Davis speak and that seemed to bring about some faint realization that we were going to see someone important. I met up with a friends from work while we were waiting to for the lecture hall to open its doors. While we stood there talking, we heard that Angela was already in the building and that she was a guest lecturer for a class across the hall. Shortly after we learned this, I looked up to see Angela standing in the hallway just a couple of yards from us. It was a breathtaking moment to be in her presence for the first time. She had just stepped out of the classroom to chat with some people and I heard someone say that she would be running late for the lecture portion of the evening because she had to go back to her hotel to prepare for the evening. I was a little worried for Z.’s sake, because although she is a patient child, her attention span has some understandable limitations. After a short time, Angela left the area and we filed into the lecture. We snagged some third-row seats, which was pretty good considering that the first two rows were reserved for WSU students and faculty.
The speech started a little later than scheduled, but we took advantage of the opportunity to get to know some people sitting around us. Z. read some books with my friend from work while I chatted with another friend who sat in back of us. I also talked with a lady who is on the Board of Directors for the National Underground Railroad Freedom Center in Cincinnati and a gentleman who is a professor of African-American studies at WSU.
Angela entered the room quietly, but everyone who noticed her perked up as we knew things were about to get moving. After some brief comments by staff from the Women’s Center and an introduction from WSU President David R. Hopkins, Angela took the stage and began her lecture.
The main portain of Angela’s lecture was around 45 minutes or so. She started by discussing the history of International Women’s Day, making note of the fact that the original purpose of the occasion was to honor the militant strikes of women garment workers in New York. It was especially noteworthy that Angela stressed the point that socialists were among the early champions of the women's movement, as this is a fact that many mainstream academics and authors might typically avoid for political reasons. She then discussed the history of Black History Month, sharing some of the lesser known facts and anniversaries associated with the civil rights movement in America. Tying the two aforementioned topics together, Angela spoke in some detail regarding the collective role of women of color in the struggle for civil rights, placing particular emphasis on the “anonymous” women of the movement throughout its most pivotal points. She recommended the book The Montgomery Boycott and the Women Who Started It by Jo Ann Robinson as further reading on the subject.
Some of the more intriguing comments of the evening came during Angela’s discussion on the election of Barack Obama. Angela touched upon the importance of race as both a “third rail” and a decisive factor in the ultimate outcome of the election. She expressed cautious optimism for the enormous potential of Obama as both a political leader and as a catalyst for geopolitical change, associating Obama’s vision with the spirit of 60’s radicalism. But she also was very candid in the need for continued scrutiny and dissent, noting that Obama is now the leader of the greatest imperial power on Earth. She declared in no uncertain terms that Barack Obama is not a “messiah” and that we should expect to disagree with his ideas and decisions throughout his time in office. These concepts were very well received by the audience, who focused intently upon Angela’s every word.
Z. was an incredible sport about everything as the night went on. There was a tense moment early on in which she quietly confessed to being “a little bored” and she got a little tearful when she started missing Thomai and K. But after a minute or so flipping through the pictures on our digital camera, she was in good shape again. She played quietly with some figurines and her favorite Madball, “Dust Brain.” At one point, she started digging through her backpack and flipping through her coloring books. I asked what she was looking for and she said she wanted paper to draw, so I got several blank sheets and a ball-point pen out for her. She doodled a bit on a few pages and I went back to listening to the lecture. After a few minutes, I looked down at the page she was working on and I noticed she had drawn what appeared to be a woman standing near a large rectangle. I looked up at the stage and saw Angela standing behind a podium and I looked back down at Z.’s picture. I tapped at the drawing and said, “Is that Angela Davis on the stage?” and she said, “Yes.” I watched a bit as she added in the stage, the lighting rig above it, and the plant that was next to the podium. She drew intently for a while and then she got some crayons and started coloring in the scenery. When she was finished, she showed me the picture and I said, “Do you want to give that to Angela?” She said that she did and then — because she was obviously pretty tired by that point — added, “Maybe we can just mail it to her.” I laughed and told her that was something to consider, but that we might try and give it to her personally before the end of the evening.
Later in the lecture, Angela talked about the problems of American prisons and the movement to abolish the current prison system. Her work in this particular area actually predates her involvement with the Soledad Brothers, although the Soledad case ultimately proved to be a pivotal moment in her development as an activist. Her recent work on the abolition of prisons includes the 1997 lecture entitled The Prison Industrial Complex and Angela noted during the WSU presentation that she is also at work on a forthcoming volume regarding the American penal system.
After concluding her lecture, Angela opened a question and answer session, discussing a broad range of issues regarding Marxism and socialism, feminism, and gender issues. One particularly interesting segment involved a University of Louisville student who asked Angela to speak a bit on the late Anne Braden. Angela obliged, sharing some stories about Braden’s fight against segregation Louisville during the 1950’s. Angela also talked a bit about her relationship with Braden and she encouraged the audience to read more about Braden and her husband, Carl Braden. Angela engaged the crowd as a consummate public speaker, yet spoke in very plain terms and enjoyed the opportunity to interact directly with admirers and students of varied backgrounds and interests.
Around 9:40 PM, Thomai called to see how Z. and I were doing. Both Thomai and I were a little concerned about keeping Z. out so late but I also struggled with the idea of leaving without getting a chance to meet Angela at the book signing following the lecture. I decided that Z. and I should go ahead and get a spot in the book signing line ahead of time, so Z. and I packed up and moved back out to the hall. The line was not too long, but I was worried that things might drag if Angela decided to take a long break after wrapping things up in the lecture hall. Fortunately, just a few minutes after we secured our spot in line, Angela came out and went right to work signing books and posing for pictures.
Z. still had the picture she drew and she still had a lot of energy at this point, although I was not sure if she was more excited about giving Angela the picture or about the fact that I agreed to get her some chicken nuggets for the ride home. I talked with a few folks in line while we waited and a young lady in back of us agreed to take our picture with Angela once we made it to the front of the line.
After a brief wait, it was finally our chance to meet Angela. I was almost too nervous to talk as I approached her. We shook hands and I introduced Z. to her. I told her that Z. had drawn a picture for her and that Z. wanted to give it to her. I also noted that Z. had done this on her own because I didn’t want to seem like some kind of strange, overzealous parent. Z. opened the picture (she had folded it into quarters) and Angela stooped down, placing her hands on her knees to get a closer look. I told Angela, “It’s a picture of you speaking on stage.” and she softly replied, “It sure is.” She talked briefly with Z., noting the details of the picture, including the plant next to the podium and a piece of a projection camera that Z. described as “that digital thing.” Angela accepted the gift from Z. and put it down on the table as I presented a book that I asked her to sign. The book was a 1984 International Publishers volume of work by Clara Zetkin that includes a foreword by Angela. Although I have several of books by Angela, this volume has been a favorite of mine for many years. She kind of chuckled when she saw the book, asking, “How long have you had this?” We talked for just a few seconds about some common interests and acquaintances, but my nervousness persisted and I didn’t get the chance to articulate some of the things I wanted share. I wanted to tell her some funny things, like how I read aloud to the girls from Marcuse’s One Dimensional Man when they are slow to finish their dinner. I wanted to tell her how I recommend her book Women, Race and Class to people whenever I get the chance. I had hoped to share a bit about my own activism and work in a variety of forums and media. But I knew time was fleeting and I couldn’t really gather the wherewithal to come across as anything less than a star-struck admirer.
I then asked if Z. and I could have a picture taken with her and she kindly agreed. Z. walked in front of Angela to pose for the picture and Angela looked down at her and said, “Do you want to come up here?” Then Angela Davis — legendary 60’s radical, former Black Panther, two-time candidate for Vice President on the CPUSA ticket and a worldwide icon of militant struggle — put her hands under Z.’s arms and hoisted her up to the table for the picture.
It was a simple gesture, really...But everyone around us seemed to be moved by it. The experience cast and indelible imprint on my mind as to the compassion and attention to detail which drives true revolutionaries in their efforts improve conditions for everyone regardless of the various minor differences that often divide us. The moment reminded me of one of my favorite quotes by Che Guevara in which he proclaims:
...the true revolutionary is guided by a great feeling of love. It is impossible to think of a genuine revolutionary lacking this quality.
Once the photograph was snapped, we said our goodbyes and the night came to an end. Although Z. is too young to grasp the significance of what she heard and experienced, we now have a wonderful picture to commemorate our evening with Angela Davis. Someday, when Z. is old enough to learn about Angela’s life and work, I’m sure she will appreciate the time we shared with Angela. It is my sincere hope that moments like this will encourage our children — the new generation and the future of social development and change — to make their mark on history as they work to make the world a better place.
Some time ago, I wrote a bit on what I think is an effective and relatively painless way to speed up dinner when the kids are lagging woefully behind. The trick is to sit at the table and read aloud from any book that the kids might likely find unbearably boring until such time as they have sufficiently cleaned their plates. I received a lot of comments from friends and family over my original post in which I first described what I think of as an innovative parenting tactic. Well, tonight's marathon session at the dinner table presented yet another opportunity to give it a shot.
Angela Davis
While browsing at HPB over the weekend, I picked up a cheap copy of the Beacon Press edition ofOne-Dimensional Man by Herbert Marcuse. Marcuse has been an intriguing figure to me ever since I learned that he was a mentor of sorts to Angela Davis. I have read pieces of the book online at marxists.org and I have always intended to tackle the entire volume at some point in time. And so, tonight -- as K. plodded through her keftedes and potatoes -- I figured it was high time to introduce her to Marcuse's 1964 critique of capitalist society.
K. pretty much knew what was going on when I left the table and came back carrying a book. Now, the initial phase of my dinnertime "intellectual aversion therapy" always features a short period of time in which all eating completely stops and we go through a bit of groaning and whining. It's only when the kids realize that I'm both willing and able to read aloud for an indefinite period of time that the complaining subsides and gives way to focused and orderly dining. (Of course, my "analytical" tone here is a bit tongue-in-cheek, but believe me when I say that there are nights when drastic measures are needed to reign in the dinnertime chaos.)
Z. had already finished her dinner and was playing in the other room, leaving Thomai, K. and me at the table. I showed Thomai the book (I had already shared it with her at least once or twice since Saturday night) and she was kind enough to endure yet another of my digressions on why I was so intrigued with this particular work. Using the notes on the back cover, I explained that Marcuse effectively "argues that members of Western societies, both capitalist and communist, must reassert their individuality and personal freedom against the oppression of the technologized status quo." I also explained that the questions in my mind at this point did not so much have to do with whether or not Marcuse was was fundamentally correct when the book was published in 1964 (I have no doubt that he was) but instead I wondered:
1) Have advances in technology such as cellular phones, personal computers, and the Internet (including the advent of 'net-based alternative media outlets, user-generated content and social networking forums) negated the concept of "oppression of the technologized status quo"?
...and...
2) If the answer to the above question is "yes," than is this because of incremental social-revolutionary change or is it because of simple evolution (with the absence of a class-conscious mass movement)? Maybe my questions were a bit verbose, but I think most folks might still get the gist of what I'm pondering. At any rate, Thomai was relatively attentive, yet silent. But the panic in K.'s voice was evident as she came to the realization that any book which gave rise to these questions must be truly boring. She looked at Thomai and said, "Mama...?" And Thomai quickly replied, "You're on your own!" as she promptly got up and left the room. Well played, my dear.
I started reading from the book and, as expected, there was considerable wailing and gnashing of teeth from K. Unfazed by the familiar and predicable results, I continued and after a bit, K. settled back into eating, doing so with some new vigor and a slight sense of urgency. She voiced a few minor protests now and again, interjecting comments like, "This is really boring" and so on. At one point, she exclaimed, "Just what is this book about, anyway?!" I replied, "Let me tell you what this book is about!" and I read her one of the most notably significant passages from chapter one:
Contemporary industrial civilization demonstrates that it has reached the stage at which "the free society" can no longer be adequately defined in the traditional terms of economic, political, and intellectual liberties, not because these liberties have become insignificant, but because they are too significant to be confined within the traditional forms. New modes of realization are needed, corresponding to the new capabilities of society.
She was quiet...still eating, but not complaining either as I broke down a little about what the sentences actually meant. Even though she's still really young, K. is a lot like I was at her age in that she watches the news and has some level of what's going on in the world. Of course, I am realistic about things; I know she can't grasp the intricacies of the important philosophical concepts in Marcuse, but I'd like to think that a basic awareness of the idea that ideas can be discussed, debated and redefined is preferable to raising a child to simply accept conditions as they are so that he or she can settle for life as nothing more than a small cog in someone else's machine.
I stopped reading for a bit and we had a short chat about the ideas of freedom and change. I enjoyed it and K. was a really good sport about it until she finished her last bite and jumped up from the table. I had to call her back to clean up her spot and put her dishes in the sink and I took advantage of the time to read yet a few more passages out loud while she tidied up.
When I posted my original "parenting tips" article years ago, my friend Anthony joked: "You'll only get an award if you achieve the twin ends of both making her finish eating AND take an interest in the subject." I can't promise that K. is going to go out and set the world on fire with her radical ideas starting tomorrow, but maybe someday she'll remember nights like this and make some good use of the concepts that we have discussed. But at the very least, I hope she'll just appreciate spending a few moments at the dinner table with her silly, silly daddy.
Never underestimate the importance of exposing your children to professional wrestling at a young age. Any doubts that I had were dispelled last night. Over dinner, Thomai and I were discussing our mutual disdain for Sarah Palin when our older daughter chimed in to say that Palin reminds her of Smackdown's Vickie Guerrero. I told her that this was an excellent comparison with the exception being that Vickie merely plays the part of an evil character, for the sake of entertainment while Palin is downright awful in real life. My daughter appreciated this important distinction.
It was a couple of years ago that I wrote of a late-night run-in with a guy at a gas station who was a bit perturbed with the "I'd rather be smashing imperialism" bumper sticker on my car. Not too long ago, I finally gave up my old Grand Am in favor of a used minivan. It's really something of a "hooptie" if I do say so myself. Laugh if you must, but it is one hell of a practical vehicle. An added bonus is that it feels like I'm piloting the Space Shuttle when I'm driving it. Of course, the day I brought the van home I immediately started the search for some good punk rock and lefty bumper stickers so I could alter the whole "soccer mom" vibe of my sweet ride and it was without question that I particularly needed a new "imperialism" sticker to grace my vehicle's posterior. I found one at Donnelly/Colt's great Progressive Resources Catalog. As soon as I got the new sticker in the mail, I slapped it on the van, right smack in the middle of the backside so that it would be clearly visible to anyone who is behind me in traffic. Over the years, whether it's been displayed on my car or the "new" van, I've noticed people smiling and laughing at the sticker, which is just fine. It is pretty tongue-in-cheek, after all. Sometimes I see folks looking at it and they look mad or confused and, well, that's just fine with me too. But I haven't really had a face-to-face chat with anyone about the sticker in a while. Then, over the weekend, I had another encounter not entirely unlike my chat in the gas station back in 2006.
On Saturday, we were driving to Fort Wayne to visit some family. When I say "we," I mean Thomai, the kids, my mother-in-law & father-in-law and me. We were passing through a decent-sized rural town not too far from the Ohio/Indiana border and we stopped for lunch at a crowded restaurant right at the peak of the lunch rush. As we were all piling out of the van and stretching a bit, I heard a woman's voice saying, "Excuse me....excuse me." I looked behind me and I saw a lady who had just parked approaching the van quickly. I kind of anticipated that she was going to ask us for directions and I started to tell her we were from out-of-town when she said, "I know I'm not the smartest person in the world, but I have a question about something on your van." At first, I thought she was going to ask about my "Cynthia McKinney for President" sticker, but she quickly zeroed in on the "I'd rather be smashing imperialism" sticker, underlining the word "imperialism" again and again with her index finger. "What does this word mean?" she said, passing over it again.
I was not sure where this was going. I always assume it's going to be a fight, I guess. I started to open my mouth to speak and then I realized I really didn't exactly know where to go with all this. I was standing in a crowded parking lot in a relatively strange place (trust me, it's strange up there) and my kids and in-laws were all right there in the thick of it with me. How could I go into Lenin or Zinoviev? Do I talk about Iraq? Maybe neocolonialism could be briefly discussed... Then I looked at the lady and I realized she wasn't talking to me...She was talking to my father-in-law. I thought to myself, "Well, this situation is officially no good." I said to the woman, "It's mine...Just a minute" and I went to the driver's side and closed my door so we could get on with the chat.
I walked back and closed the van door and returned to the back of the van where I was surprised to see the lady leaning in to listen intently to my father-in-law as he spoke quietly, yet sternly to her. He had her full attention. He said, "It means, 'Smash the ones who do all the smashing.' The bad people."
I wasn't sure what to expect. The lady paused and thought for a second and I worried that she might unleash some kind of jingoistic tirade. Then her face lit up and she said, "Oh! Okay! I just wanted to know what it meant for sure in case my kids asked me." She was perfectly happy and went on her way.
My father-in-law had clearly shown me that being straightforward and succinct is much better than over-thinking things and overreacting. It was an answer that was brilliant in its simplicity and true the spirit of the original message.
The Horseshoe Falls at dusk, as seen from the observation deck of Skylon Tower
On our list of favorite vacation spots and travel destinations, Ontario, Canada is surely in the top three, right along with Greece and San Francisco. For this year's summer vacation, we went to Niagara Falls, Canada. This visit was our third trip to Niagara Falls and our fourth trip overall to Ontario (we visited Toronto in 2005). Thomai and I first visited Niagara Falls as newlyweds back in 1998 and we had an absolutely great time. We returned in 2001 when K. was about 2 ½ years old and it was another memorable experience. Of course, our trip to Toronto was exceptional, but it was a pretty expensive junket and it wasn't in the cards (or in the budget) for us to go back this year, although we would have liked to do so. Because Z. had never visited the Falls, we thought this would be a good time share the experience as a family of four.
We were ready for a huge road trip, having compiled a massive mix CD that included some of our road trip favorites like "The Road I Must Travel" by The Nightwatchman, "Vacation" by the Go-Go's and "Holiday Road" by Lindsey Buckingham. We also added some new songs to the mix, like "No One" by Alicia Keys, which is a new favorite for Thomai and K.
It is probably worth noting that it was pretty sunny on the drive up to Canada and I had to break down and buy a pair of sunglasses at a Pennsylvania K-mart. And -- get this -- they were those huge "over glasses" shades that I joked about last year in my rant about Wal-Mart. Once we were back on the road, it finally hit me that I was 35 years old, wearing gigantic "over-glasses" sunglasses, and driving a mini-van with my 2 kids in tow. So I guess it is official that I am an old guy.
The one and only Santino Marella
We were a little worried about Stupsi on our first night there, as she had helped herself to a bag of the kids' candy a day or two earlier. But we did manage to get settled and walk down to Clifton Hill, which is one of our favorite spots in Niagara Falls. It is probably one of my greatest contradictions that I love such a kitschy, touristy place like Clifton Hill. The girls were pretty excited to eat at The Rainforest Café and I must say it was pretty decent for a chain restaurant. I was pretty stoked to find the WWE Retail Store right next to the Rainforest Café and we stopped there after dinner. I ended up buying a Santino Marella t-shirt which I will probably wear several times a week for many, many years to come. I had wanted one of these shirts pretty badly for about a month, but I hadn't got around to getting one online. Now, Thomai will tell you that she doesn't like wrestling at all, but I am more than happy to point out that Santino always gets a laugh out of her. I am pretty sure it's because his in-your-face "Italian" character reminds her of some of her more "boisterous" relatives in Greece.
Our first big stop during our stay was the Niagara Parks Butterfly Conservatory. We had never been there before, and it was a tremendously interesting place to see. Thomai took some wonderful pictures there.
Yes, I gave this man $4.
Later in the week, we visited some of our favorite spots on Clifton Hill, including the Movieland Wax Museum and the Rock and Roll Wax Museum. Baby Z. has a bizarre fascination with Elvis these days, and we snapped an hilarious picture of her posing in front of a wax figure of "The King." Later that day, we came across a street performer who was working the Clifton Hill area with his very bizarre "Golden Elvis" routine. Both of the girls were really taken by his act and I ended up giving the guy $4 CDN (or two "Toonies") so that he would give the each of girls a set of gold beads. K. wore her beads for the rest of the trip.
Skylon Tower was a high point (pun intended) for us all and we took some great pictures of the Horseshoe Falls below. I was also pleasantly surprised to find a nice-looking spider spinning an impressive web on the outside of the observation deck screen, a full 775 feet from the ground. The pictures I took of that spider (with the distant landscape below as a backdrop) are some of my favorite pictures from the trip.
Spider web at 775 feet.
As usual, I wanted to visit a locally-owned used and rare bookshop as part of our trip and after looking a bit on the web and in the phone book, I thought Hannelore Headley Old & Fine Books in St. Catherine's looked like a good spot. This place was totally packed with rows upon rows of books, stacked as high as the ceiling in some places. I landed a couple of good finds, including Love and Struggle in Mao's Thought by Raymond Whitehead and a 1968 Progress Publishers book on the Ulyanov Family.
Our last day in Niagara was the busiest of them all, as we didn't want to leave without hitting all of the best "tourist" attractions. We have hit the Double Deck Sightseeing Tour, Journey Behind the Falls and Maid of the Mist on all three of our Niagara trips now and each attraction is a special and unique experience.
For our last big meal of the trip, we went to a ritzy Chinese restaurant called Golden Lotus, located in the über-posh Fallsview Casino Resort. Budgetary constraints prevented us splurging on $100-plus dishes like shark fin soup and abalone, but I did go with the waiter's recommendation, which was the tender pork neck in X.O. sauce. I had never tasted X.O. sauce before and I was a little worried that I wouldn't like it, but it was just spicy enough without completely overpowering the dish. The consistency of the pork neck was unusual, but very intriguing -- somewhere between a piece of ham and a pork chop. The dish was pretty fantastic, overall, as was the entire trip.
Niagara Falls has never let us down and Thomai and I were so happy to enjoy all of our favorite spots with the girls.
You can view pictures of our trip here. (username & password required)
International Women's Day, as described
by Alexandra Kollontai, began as “a day of international solidarity, and a day
for reviewing the strength and organization of proletarian women.” Established through the determination
of radical activist and organizer Clara Zetkin and a resolution adopted at the
International Conference of Working Women the first IWD was marked in
1911. Today, IWD is
commemorated around the world as “a global day
celebrating the economic, political and social achievements of women past,
present and future.”
Nadezhda Krupskaya (1869 – 1939) Married to V.I. Lenin, Krupskaya was a very important
revolutionary in her own right, educating and supporting fellow Bolsheviks in
the years leading up to the Russian Revolution of 1917. Suffering through persecution and arrest under
the Tsar, Krupskaya endured the struggle and supported Lenin through the tumult
that would eventually bring the Soviets to power. Krupskaya was an archivist and librarian and did much work
in the establishment of the new Soviet library system following the
revolution. In 1933, she published
Reminiscences of Lenin, a biography of her husband which is often regarded as
one of the best assessments of his life and work.
Ida B. Wells-Barnett (1862 – 1931) Ida B. Wells-Barnett was a
journalist and activist who used her exceptional talents as a writer and a speaker to raise global
awareness
regarding crimes against African-Americans in the South during the
decades
immediately following the Civil War.
She wrote extensively on the problem of lynching in the
United States,
beginning with two groundbreaking pamphlets Southern
Horrors: Lynch Law in All
Its Phases, and a A Red Record. She co-founded the NAACP
with W.E.B. DuBois and others
in 1909.
It didn't take long for us to realize that we didn't want to be without a Boxer in the house. After just a few days without 
As I've noted before, one of my favorite things to do as a parent is to share interesting and unusual books with our girls at every possible opportunity. Sometimes, the results aren't terribly well received, like the time I read aloud from an old inductive logic book over dinner or the night I shared some passages from Marcuse's 
So, I started reading to Z. from the beginning of Scene Four but about halfway down the page, I realized that I had indeed come upon some subject matter that wasn't entirely age-appropriate for my young, audience. This scene featured a young soldier who was furious with his captain and was looking to exact some revenge. I stopped reading as I scanned the remainder of the page to see what I had gotten myself into and I silently read the following:
On February 23, 2009, I attended a lecture by 
I realize it might seem a little odd to embark on a tangent about a simple poster what is supposed to be an account of a speaking engagement, but there is something very important about this poster in the context of my experience in seeing Angela speak at WSU: This piece has been hanging on the wall in our library room ever since our older daughter K. was a toddler. Both K. and our younger daughter Z. have looked upon Angela’s portrait for years. They know her face and they know her name. Sure, it’s true that they are too young to really understand that much about Angela and what she stands for, but they know that she is 
After a brief wait, it was finally our chance to meet Angela. I was almost too nervous to talk as I approached her. We shook hands and I introduced Z. to her. I told her that Z. had drawn a picture for her and that Z. wanted to give it to her. I also noted that Z. had done this on her own because I didn’t want to seem like some kind of strange, overzealous parent. Z. opened the picture (she had folded it into quarters) and Angela stooped down, placing her hands on her knees to get a closer look. I told Angela, “It’s a picture of you speaking on stage.” and she softly replied, “It sure is.” She talked briefly with Z., noting the details of the picture, including the plant next to the podium and a piece of a projection camera that Z. described as “that 
